


Family Look After Each Other

by MistoElectra



Series: I Don't Need Luck, I Have You [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi, Sickfic, baze is stubborn but also a softy, bodhi is a precious smol child to be protected, bodhi is chirrut and baze's adoptive son, chirrut is a mother hen but cannot be left to look after himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 09:16:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9228458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistoElectra/pseuds/MistoElectra
Summary: Or, three times a family member gets sick. Baze is stubborn, Chirrut can't look after himself and Bodhi is too precious for this world.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bleu_bee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleu_bee/gifts).



> Part 2 of the 'I Don't Need Luck, I Have You' series

It was rather funny, in Baze’s eyes, how much of a mother hen Chirrut had become ever since they’d taken in Bodhi. For someone who was so often careless with his own safety, it was the opposite when it came to the young boy. He was intent on making sure the boy got some meat on his bones, was constantly checking if he was warm enough and always checking him over. All the same, the genuine affection and devotion warmed his heart, and even if it seemed a bit much at times, Baze let him continue with it just to see that smile.

And he completely understood the feeling when the seven year old managed to catch the Bonadan cough that had been spreading through the children of the city.

Granted, it wasn’t overly dangerous. There’d be no long term damage or anything like that, but that didn’t mean that seeing the boy look so upset and miserable didn’t wrench at his heart. Chirrut had bundled the lad up in at least three blankets in front of the fire and given him some of the medicine they’d bought from the healers. It wouldn’t cure it, they’d been told, but it would help ease the cough and give him a little bit of relief and let him sleep. Not that he seemed to need too much help with that, as he’d passed out within a few moments anyway. 

Stooping beside the fireplace, Baze picked the boy up, cradling him gently. So small, and yet he had wormed his way into their lives, and now he couldn’t quite imagine it any differently. Rocking the boy, he gently rubbed his back as a few more harsh coughs echoed from Bodhi’s throat, the child instinctively curling into Baze’s chest, a hand gripping tightly at his robes.

Right then and there, Baze swears to protect the boy, to protect his family with all his might, and that no harm will come to them if he can help it.

Luckily, the cough clears up within a week and soon Bodhi is back to running around the Temple. And when he catches a case of Cardooine chills, he sighs, but he still spends every night by his bedside, constantly checking on him and making sure everything is okay. This amuses Chirrut to no end, but if he often joins Baze by the bedside, curled up next to him to keep an eye on their boy, neither of them say anything.

***

Chirrut had known Baze since they were both children, and he could honestly count on one hand the amount of times he’d seen Baze sick. Well, seen wouldn’t be quite the word, but he’d witnessed it nonetheless. The older man tended to play it off, never liked to admit that he didn’t feel so well, and Chirrut remembered all too well his indignant squalling that he was fine when he contracted measles in their youth. Denial had played a large part in that, even when Chirrut himself had felt the red bumps on the other’s skin- he’d already had the disease as a young child so had little worry about catching it.

Still, Chirrut was aware of what Baze got like when he was sick, and he was fairly certain this was it. Even if Baze was intent on denying it, likely because ever since the Temple had fallen, they’d had to find other ways to survive- ones that they were a little less proud of, but it was a living nonetheless- and he felt he couldn’t afford to lose any time, not when they had Bodhi to worry about. Not to mention Baze had always been proud, something that Chirrut adored about him, but in times like this, it could be just a tad irritating.

He’d heard the sniffles first, shoddily concealed as Baze slipped out of their small home for a job. He’d said nothing, waiting to see how it developed. And now matter how he’d tried to hide it, Chirrut could tell the man was congested simply from his way of speaking. Plus, he’d been getting more short-tempered, a sign he was in pain, and Chirrut had felt the swelling one night when he’d been running his hands across Baze’s face, using the gesture to help memorize the look.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Baze had Balmorra flu. A nasty enough infliction, although it too would pass. But Chirrut didn’t like it when his family was in pain. And so if he used the money he’d scraped together from his begging and fortune telling to purchase some meds, that was his own business. They’d paid their rent and had food and he could spend the excess money he’d made whatever way he chose. And that way was ensuring his family stayed healthy. Besides, the last thing they needed was Bodhi catching it and the house coming down with it.

So maybe they had a bit of an argument later about the meds, with Baze mentioning about wasting money on him, but Chirrut had silenced him with a hard glare that was unnaturally intimidating given his size in comparison to his companion. Reluctantly, Baze had taken the meds, and Chirrut reverted to normal, smiling and leaning up to kiss his cheek before moving back to the window to begin his meditation.

He lived with the most stubborn man in the galaxy, but he wouldn’t change his family for the world.

***

Bodhi’s first experience with proper serious illness was at the age of twelve. Not for himself, he’s had multiple cases of colds and flus and that sort of thing, but they’ve all been fairly brief and fleeting and he’s always had his parents to look after him, whether it be Papa Chirrut gently feeding him broth, or Papa Baze rocking him to sleep in strong arms, humming a gentle tune. He’d also seen his parents contract similar afflictions, but they’d been considerably more resilient about it, soldiering on through. He’d tried to be like that, but Papa Chirrut had just chuckled softly and patted his head, telling him he didn’t need to worry about that. He was still little, and allowed to feel lousy and be looked after.  
So when Papa Chirrut had started to cough a little, he hadn’t been too worried. After all, colds weren’t uncommon and although irritating, they often got by fine. Not to mention it was winter, and the vicious winds in the streets were enough to make anyone start coughing. Papa Baze had just given him a stern look and told him to wrap up warmer before he went out onto the streets to work, and Papa Chirrut had laughed slightly wheezily and told him he worried too much. So Bodhi had shrugged it off and continued as usual.  
Except, Papa Chirrut kept coughing, and Bodhi was pretty sure it was getting worse instead of better. He smiled and shook his head and persisted that it was probably just a bad case of the flu, but Bodhi could see his other papa’s doubtful looks and the concern in his eyes. Papa Chirrut was stubborn though and insisted on still going out to work.

Until one morning when he couldn’t.

Bodhi had risen with the sun, up and chipper and ready to go and had shuffled over to the other bed to see if his parents were awake. Papa Baze was already gone for the day but he noticed how Papa Chirrut still wasn’t awake. Rather, he was curled up in a ball, his face flushed and twisted slightly as if he were hurting. Tentatively, the boy reached out to touch his papa’s face, only to pull his hand back at the heat coming off him. Every now and then, violent coughs would wrack him, followed by soft whimpers that made Bodhi panic. His papa had never been like this and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what medicine he could give him to make him feel better and putting blankets around him wouldn’t work surely- not with how warm he was. Nonetheless, he dragged his blankets over and tucked them around his papa, nervously chewing his lip, before shaking his shoulder a few times.

To his relief, his papa’s eyes cracked open but he still didn’t seem at all well. He tried to offer him food, but his papa didn’t want it. A few sips of water were about as much as he seemed to be able to manage and as time went by, the panic began to rise in Bodhi. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

Uncertainty filling him, he tucked his papa in, telling him not to move until he got back. He took the soft noise as confirmation of this before pulling on his boots and tearing out into the streets. He had to find Papa Baze and tell him. Darting through the city, he looked left and right, and finally, just when he was about to give up, tears trailing down his cheeks, he spotted him in an archway. Dark hair falling across his face, he ran to him, arms clamping around him and surprising the older man considerably.

“You’ve g-got to c-c-come h-home. Papa’s not well and I d-d-don’t know what to d-do,” he whimpered, looking up at Baze with big tear filled brown eyes. Baze needed no further encouragement, quickly and quietly finishing the deal before moving in swift strides through the streets, his adoptive son clinging to him.

As promised, Chirrut hadn’t moved a muscle and Bodhi watched as his Papa Baze moved to his side, gently and easily propping him up in his lap, softly hushing the moans of pain and comforting him as his body shook with his cough. Papa Chirrut wasn’t that big after all- he was strong, of course, but he wasn’t like Papa Baze.

“Bodhi,” Baze called him over, brushing the tears from his eyes, “I need you to go down to the market place and get the healer, okay? Run quickly now.”

Bodhi had never run faster in his life, practically dragging the healer woman back to their home.

An infection, likely from the amount of time spent on the cold streets.

Rest and medicine and just pushing through it was the way to help apparently, but over the next while, Bodhi didn’t feel that it looked like it was helping. His papa still seemed so ill, coughing and wheezing, barely lucid, barely eating and when he had coughed up blood once, Bodhi had worked himself into a panicked crying fit that his papa was going to die, until Baze had cradled him close and reassured him that everything would be fine. They just had to be patient. That didn’t make the night Chirrut’s fever broke any less terrifying for the boy, watching as his papa moaned and thrashed in pain, held down as gently as possible by Baze. Despite his comfort, Bodhi could see the worry in his eyes, and had fallen asleep on the floor beside the bed with his hand tightly grasping his Papa Chirrut’s.

Strangely, when he woke up, he wasn’t on the floor, but rather on the bed, and there was a hand gently running through his hair. When he looked up, his eyes widened to see his Papa Chirrut looking down at him. He looked exhausted and weak, but he was fully lucid and he was okay and Bodhi had never hugged someone so tight, eliciting a tired chuckle and a raspy voice murmuring in his ear that everything is okay.

It took his papa another few weeks to get his strength back, and Bodhi did all he could to help, tidying things up, bringing him water and food and generally sticking like glue to his side. Chirrut didn’t mind though, and after that, both Baze and Bodhi made sure he wrapped up warm enough before heading out onto the streets.

After all, family looked after each other.


End file.
